


Blood Mate

by spowell Count Dracula series (SPowell)



Series: Count Dracula [17]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bestiality, Bondage, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mind Control, Vampires, Werewolves, blood-sucking, dark!fic, dub con, enslavement, evil!Merlin, non con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 07:32:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2764901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/pseuds/spowell%20Count%20Dracula%20series
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur learns some of what it means to be a blood mate. Heart break for Gwendolyn. Elyan succumbs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Mate

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to read a better version of the day before's post, I always go through it an edit before working on the next one. I write quickly in the mornings before work, and then when I go over it before writing again, I always end up editing.  
> I hope some are reading and enjoying.

“Arthur,” Gwendolyn laughed. “I don’t know why you are suddenly in such a hurry. Our date has been set for a year, and our marriage for our entire lives. What has gotten into you?”

She poured his tea, and Arthur took the cup, frowning over it. After being with Dracula the day before, the necessity of getting away—far away---weighed upon him. Gwendolyn was in terrible danger, and Arthur didn’t know if it was too late for himself or not.

“It just seems we have waited long enough.”

Gwendolyn’s face softened and she crossed the space between them, taking his teacup from his hands and setting it on the nearby table before perching on his lap.

“Dear Arthur, I’m flattered.” She leaned in and pressed her lips to his. Before Arthur could quite register that this was not at all as enticing or desirable as what he experienced with the Count, a searing pain swept through him, starting at his neck and groin and spreading throughout his veins until his entire body was on fire. He cried out, pushing Gwendolyn away from him so that she staggered off his lap and several paces away, barely regaining her footing.

“Arthur!” Gwendolyn’s face plainly showed her confusion and hurt.

Arthur quickly covered by grabbing at his back and scrunching up his face.

“I’m…sorry. A terrible pain in my back. I did some heavy lifting yesterday.”

“Oh, my poor darling.” Gwendolyn immediately hovered over him, petting at his head and shoulders. “Let me help you to the sofa.”

Once Arthur lay against the cushions and Gwendolyn administered a pain draught, he relaxed a bit, although the implications of what had happened when Gwendolyn kissed him continued to make his heart pound. Would Dracula’s hold on him lessen with distance, he wondered?

Sounds of Gwendolyn speaking to someone in the foyer reached Arthur’s ears. He thought he heard Elyan’s voice. The pain drought made Arthur sleepy; indeed, he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before for recalling what he’d seen in the dining room at Carfax Manor. The particular memory of the wolf mounting Yvette kept him awake with dual feelings of revulsion and titillation that deeply disturbed him.

Arthur fought closing his eyes, but the fire crackled in the grate, and the clock on the mantle ticked the minutes, its pendulum swinging with soft, even clicks. Presently, these sounds blurred together into one, and Arthur dozed, his mind filled with visions of the Count’s handsome face.

When Arthur awoke and came to himself again, he looked about the room. The fire was low and the room chilled. All was quiet. Outside the window, darkness had fallen over the garden.

He stood, stretching, and went in search of his fiancée.

All the first floor rooms were empty. Arthur ascended the staircase, calling out for Gwendolyn, wondering if everyone had left on some errand.

Mr. Hasting’s study door was open, and Arthur looked in, his heart freezing when he saw the old man draped over his desk as though in a faint, a pen still gripped in his fingers.

Arthur rushed forward to attempt to rouse him, but it was no use. There was no pulse.

Arthur stood uncertainly for a moment. Had Gwendolyn’s father suffered a heart attack while writing his correspondence? It was entirely possible, for Mr. Hasting’s health had not been good. Arthur did not relish telling Gwendolyn of it—she adored her father. And where had Gwendolyn gotten to during Arthur’s nap?

He left the room, opening the first closed door he came to--most likely Elyan’s room by the muted green walls with paintings that depicted ships on the sea -- and stopped dead in his tracks.

The bed stood in the center of the room, and in it sprawled three figures—those of Elyan, Will, and Leander.

All three men were nude, with no coverings over them whatsoever. Elyan clutched the spools of the headboard, his dark legs lewdly spread open, and Will lay between them, lapping hungrily at Elyan’s heavy ball sac. Leander lay at Elyan’s side, mouth to throat, drinking thirstily. For Elyan’s part, he moaned and stared unseeingly at the far wall.

When the shock left him, Arthur strode forward to the edge of the bed.

“Stop this! Stop this at once!” he ordered, but to no avail. Will kept licking; Leander kept sucking; and Elyan kept staring blankly.

“I said, stop this! Leander—unhand him!” Arthur reached out to shake the Leander’s shoulder, but he stopped the movement mid-air, unable to complete it. He watched Leander’s throat muscles move as he swallowed, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. As Arthur’s eyes swept over Leander, he saw that Leander’s hand languidly pumped his rigid cock as he drank.

Elyan’s breaths came fast and shallowly, chest quivering. Will made obscene noises as he nuzzled under the heavy ball sac, tongue searching.

Heart hammering, Arthur backed away, appalled and more than a little frightened. His shoulder hit the door frame and he turned and ran, scrambling down the stairs. When he found Prudence coming from the back hallway, he took her by the shoulders and shook her until her cap came askew.

“Where is your mistress?”

“Why…why…she left, Sir. She went to visit her new friends. The Newton sisters. At their home at Carfax Manor.”

Arthur felt the blood leaving his face. With difficulty, he managed to compose himself. “Call the doctor and the undertaker. Mr. Hastings has died.”

Prudence raised her work-worn hands to her mouth. “Oh, no, Sir.”

Arthur nodded. “I will go give the news to Miss Hastings.”

When Prudence scurried away, Arthur stood at the base of the stairs, looking up, clenching and unclenching his fists. After a moment, he turned and left.

***

Arthur found the Count in his new library at Carfax Manor. It wasn’t half as extensive as the one at Dracula Castle, but still impressive. He stood for long seconds, admiring the Count’s high cheek bones, lush lashes, and the long fingers that delicately turned each page of the book he was reading. His heart and body yearned.

“Arthur.” The Count set his book aside. “What a wonderful surprise.” His smile showed his dimples, and Arthur was undone. He swayed slightly as Dracula stood and came toward him.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon after our last meeting. May I venture to assume you missed me?”

 _Always,_ Arthur thought as the Count kissed him.

He reminded himself of his mission.

“My fiancée is here.”

The Count’s face hardened. “Arthur, I will say this once and only once. I never want you to refer to anyone in those terms again. Did I not tell you we were blood mates?”

“But—“

“Arthur.”

Arthur nodded, heart beating loudly in his ears.

“Miss Hastings is here,” he corrected himself. “With the three sisters.”

Dracula’s eyes cleared. “I see.” He swept past Arthur, and Arthur followed. They walked to the back of the Manor and across a breezeway into another portion of the mansion. When the Count first touched the door knob, it seemed to be locked, but another touch brought it open.

Lilting laughter to the left led them to the sitting room where they found the three sisters sitting with Gwendolyn. Relief, warm and staggering in its intensity, swept over Arthur when he saw that everything seemed as it should be. The sisters were properly dressed. Gwendolyn smiled happily, although she was obviously surprised to see Arthur.

“Arthur!” She stood, and Morgana stood, too. Arthur didn’t miss the way Morgana’s eyes swept over Gwendolyn before landing coldly on Arthur.

“Gwendolyn, I need to have a word with you,” Arthur said.

“Of course,” she came to him.

“I’m sorry I disappeared on you like that, but you were so tired, and the sisters came by and wanted me to visit.” Gwendolyn’s eyes moved to the Count.

“This is Count Dracula. Count, this is Gwendolyn Hastings.” Propriety would have him add “my fiancée,” but he dared not.

“How do you do, my lady,” the Count took her hand, bent over it, and kissed it. Needles stabbed at Arthur’s neck and groin, and he barely held in his gasp of pain.

“Gwendolyn, something’s happened,” Arthur said gravely.

“What is it?” When he didn’t immediately answer, she frowned, worry lines etching along her eyes. “Arthur?”

Arthur took her hand and heard the Count’s indrawn breath.

“It’s your father. I’m afraid he’s collapsed.”

“Oh! Oh, Arthur! Collapsed! I must go to him!”

Arthur squeezed her hand, aware of the Count’s posture going rigid beside him. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that, my dear.”

A growl from the Count.

“Oh! Oh! Arthur, my love!” Gwendolyn threw herself into Arthur’s arms, sobbing helplessly. Over her shoulder, Arthur looked into the enraged eyes of his blood mate and shivered.

**Author's Note:**

> This is darker than anything I've ever written, and a bit kinkier. If you're enjoying this, I'd love to hear from you. What aspects of it do you like? Is there something you'd like to see more of? I can't promise it will fit in the story, but it might.


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